


Deeper, Softer.

by heavenlymoonbeam (vilupe)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Castiel, College AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Friends to Lovers, M/M, See Author's Notes For Warnings, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilupe/pseuds/heavenlymoonbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happens it was innocuous enough. Cas had been his roommate freshmen year, and their growing familiarity had bred codependence. Eventually, this led to the two of them living in a tiny off-campus apartment for the last few years. It was a good arrangement, simple friendship without the complications that Dean had faced from the dickbags that he had associated with prior to meeting Castiel. Their ease with being in each other’s space was such that Dean didn’t even think anything of it when Cas came home one day, five years into their friendship, and slunk down in front of Dean’s legs instead of the space next to him on the couch.</p><p>*<br/>At times, life was just a little too much for Cas. Dean found himself just wanting to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeper, Softer.

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERY WARNINGS: In the following fic/ficlet Dean and Cas find themselves in an emotional dynamic that has Dom/sub undertones. It’s not negotiated, and as such, may make some people uncomfortable.
> 
> This is an older fic that I'm crossposting from [my tumblr](http://www.heavenlymoonbeam.tumblr.com). I tried editing it over and cleaning it up before posting it onto here, but if you see any errors, let me know <3!

The first time it happens it was innocuous enough. Cas had been his roommate freshmen year, and their growing familiarity had bred codependence. Eventually, this led to the two of them living in a tiny off-campus apartment for the last few years. It was a good arrangement, simple friendship without the complications that Dean had faced from the dickbags that he had associated with prior to meeting Castiel. Their ease with being in each other’s space was such that Dean didn’t even think anything of it when Cas came home one day, five years into their friendship, and slunk down in front of Dean’s legs instead of the space next to him on the couch.

That first night he’d asked Cas if the dude was alright, but Cas just rolled his shoulders in a pantomime of Dean’s own avoidant body language—a non-answer in its smoothest form. He leaned back against Dean’s calves, pressing the sharp lines of his shoulder blades into muscle. His eyes ostensibly transfixed to the old Star Trek re-runs that were playing on T.V. Five years living with someone tells you a lot about their habits, so Dean was well aware of what a stubborn son of a bitch Cas could be. Dean, instead of pushing Cas to answer or explain himself, just settled more firmly into the couch cushions and resigned himself to waiting Cas out.

If his fingers creeped into the dark rats’ nest Cas called hair, to play idly with the strands as the night wore on, then neither of them said anything about it. Just like they never managed to speak about Cas’s weird behavior to begin with.

The second time it happed was 3 months later. Cas was beginning to present his topic proposal for his Master’s Thesis to the stodgy douche bags that inhabited the Religion and History departments, and he was so stressed that Dean could have sworn that Cas was trembling with it. His hands pale and consistently unsteady whenever Dean happened to catch sight of them wrapped tightly around mugs of coffee at all hours of the day.

Around noon, Dean was studying for one if his engineering classes (grudgingly he had decided to continue his studies in electrical engineering after he was offered a place in the Master’s program by one of his professors) when Cas stormed into the apartment like thunder rolling in on the Kansas countryside. Glowering, he tossed his bag onto the dining table and shrugged off his ugly tan coat that he refused to get rid of. Once he looked up and around enough to notice Dean, sitting on a chair opposite him, he let a soft, worrying sound. It took a few steps. But before Dean knew what was going on, Cas was folding his legs under him. He dropped down onto the floor against Dean’s chair as if he were a marionette and someone had just cut all his strings.

This time Dean didn’t even try to ask what Cas was doing. He just accepted the warm press of Cas’s forehead along his outer thigh and slid his fingers into Cas’s hair with his free hand—massaging his scalp and watching the tension leave Cas slowly.

An hour passed like that. The silence growing between them not heavy per say, but different from the silences that Dean was used to. Afterwards Cas stood up, said in his rough voice, “Thank you, Dean. I believe it is my turn to prepare dinner, is it not?” Then he walked off into the kitchen like he hadn’t spent an entire hour with his head nearly in Dean’s lap.

At that, Dean had merely dropped his head onto his textbook and let out a soft puff of air, trying his hardest not to whimper in frustration or acknowledge the low burn deep in his belly that had been ignited by Cas’s actions.

Still, Cas’s tension was water behind a damn, building up throughout the semester. Dean reckoned it was his own fault, his hatred of long conversations about feelings, that Cas’s only outlet happened to include him being on his knees in front of Dean, submissively offering himself to be coddled and comforted. And so the first two times opened the floodgates, their weird little dance occurring again and again in the lead up to winter break. Dean couldn’t complain though. He was confused at first, for sure, but he couldn’t deny that he took pleasure in Cas kneeling on the floor, the curl of Cas’s hair around his fingers. Or all those times Cas turned into Dean’s leg instead of resting against it, his breath hot and damp through the denim of Dean’s jeans.

It wasn’t a sex thing. That was the one consolation of whatever this was that didn’t have Dean’s internal what-the-fuck-o-meter ratcheting up so that he was running for the hills in order to preserve their friendship.  It was as if he was hiding from the world and Dean was his choice shield. And the thought of being Cas’s shelter against the world, satisfied something in Dean that was more than sexual.    

It wasn’t a sex thing, until it was.

Dean came home to find Cas sitting at their dining table-come-study desk. His hands were laced tightly through his dark locks, fingers pulling at the roots. Cas stared at his notes, lit up sickly blue by the glow of the computer screen. Dean’s heart lurched in his chest at the sight. His own hands itched to pull Cas’s free from their tangle, force him to stop hurting himself, and kiss the pad of his fingers and the bumps of his knuckles.

His ears suddenly felt like they were on fire. Shaking his head to clear his completely unwanted, ridiculous thoughts, Dean mumbled out, “Hey, Cas,” barely waiting for Cas’s response before sinking onto their couch.  He took a deep breath, filling his lungs until the burn of trapped air was too much, and then let it out slowly. Calmer, less embarrassed by thoughts that he shouldn’t be having, Dean sunk into the cushions. Spreading his legs wide and relaxing, he tilted his head back against the surplus of pillows that Cas had insisted on when they first moved in.  It just about gave him a glance at Cas’s profile; a sliver of guilty covetousness encouraging him to ogle at his friend.  

Cas looked his way like he could sense Dean’s gaze on him the way someone would sense the whisper of a physical caress brushing against them. Their eyes caught and held, and Dean was tempted to shut his firmly against the weight of Cas’s liquid blue stare. He forced himself to watch Cas stand up and make his way toward Dean. Not wanting to break their staring contest, Dean lifted his head off of the couch pillows and tracked Cas’s movements right until Cas stopped in front of him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, doing that thing where he barely smiles but his eyes are fucking beaming.

Dean broke away then, looking down at Cas’s bare toes curling in the rug bellow them. He could see the movement of Cas’s muscles from where the fabric of his slacks were stretched over his legs, and Dean was unsurprised when Cas followed that movement and sunk down to his knees. Between the open space Dean had made for him, Cas sat pretty as a wet dream.

Eye-level once more, Dean felt that burning start up in his gut again, and he was so pent up that he couldn’t help the way his look turned challenging as he watched Cas situate himself amid his legs.

There were questions between them. Too many for Dean to count by now. But Cas shut his eyes in opposition to them, leaning his temple along the inside ridge of Dean’s knee. His hands were lightly placed on the couch, fingertips brushing against Dean’s inner thighs every time one of them shifted. It was a tease, nothing like what they’d been doing. A part of Dean thought that this must be his doing, he has yearned for this so much that surely he was projecting and Cas was picking up on it, but if Cas disliked the turn then he wasn’t saying anything. Dean tilted his head back against those pillows once more, his eyes slipping closed. 

He didn’t have it in him to put a stop to something he craved so desperately.

Without thinking about it, Dean rested the pads of his fingers gently on Cas’s crown. He rubbed the dark strands between them, the thick texture of his hair gliding smoothly along the creases and whirls that made up Dean’s finger pads. Time had a way of passing strangely when they were like this, and Dean’s hands eventually found themselves running down the sides of Cas’s scalp. Thumbs pressed into the skin behind his ears, Dean scratched his nails up and down through the hair above his nape.

Abruptly, Dean was intensely aware that Cas’s nose was less than an inch from the hard bulge of Dean’s dick in his jeans. He had apparently been tugging and fisting all that thick hair while Cas snuffled his way from the relatively safe place of Dean’s knee to the crease where Dean’s thigh met his groin. Dean groaned long and low at the sight, his fingers tightening their grasp unconsciously.

Cas echoed him, his voice rising to a higher pitch than Dean had ever heard it. His eyes met Dean’s; glazed over with lust, the over-bright blue staring up at Dean was kindling to the low burning fire in his belly. 

One of Cas’s hands was splayed against Dean’s thigh, and he bore his weight against it to give him the leverage he needed so that he could shift forward that last inch and nose along Dean’s cock. Cas’s mouth was hot and open, eager to suck at the line of cock in front of him. Like this, Dean couldn’t feel more than the heat of Cas’s mouth against him, but the sensation still had him panting hard and pushing Cas closer.

Cas licked at the fabric a few more times before surging up to nuzzle at the skin of Dean’s tummy right above his jeans’ button. The motion made his shirt ride up a little, and Cas’s lips and nose tickled the fine line of hair that trailed under his waistband.

He paused and blinked up at Dean. His tongue peaked out to dip down beneath Dean’s jeans as he asked, “Dean. Dean, can I?”

Already fried out with desire, Cas’s voice was pitchy and rough. Dean smirked at the sound, not knowing which one of them was more desperate for it. He gruffly said, “Yeah,” and slid one of his hands around to cup Cas’s jaw, gently running his fingers along Cas’s bottom lip.

Cas took two of Dean’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on them wet and sloppy. Dean cursed quietly and pulled them out so that he could open his fly with both hands. His heart was loud in his ears, the pounding sound second only to the soft murmurs and whines Cas was making below him. Once Dean got his pants open, Cas batted his hands away and reached into his briefs to pull out his cock. It was flushed an angry red at the head, hard and curving up towards Dean’s belly. Cas gave it a look like a man in a desert would look at water. Dean blushed hotter; the red of his ears making its way down passed his neck.  For a moment, they both watched a drop of pre-come spurt out of from the slit and leak down the flared head to his shaft. Before the little droplet could get much farther, Cas shot forwards, all impatience, and wrapped his lips around the fat head of Dean’s cock and started to suck for all he was worth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean said, trying his hardest not to curl around Cas’s head and suffocate him.

Cas was all eager lines and trembling tension, sucking happily and making little aborted motions like he was caught between savoring the taste of Dean on his tongue and swallowing him down in one go. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Cas would choke himself on Dean’s cock if Dean let him, so he wrapped his fingers around Cas’s neck, rubbing and squeezing Cas’s nape. Dean’s touch had Cas letting off of sucking to lick and kiss his way down the underside of his cock, paying special attention to mouth at that stretch of skin under the head. He tongued the slit, making Dean’s fingers spasm against his skin and force back groans, and as soon as he had his lips around Dean again, it was a long, slow slide until Dean’s cock was hitting the back of Cas’s throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cas,” Dean yelped, the fingers of his free hand coming up to rest at Cas’s cheek.

He began to bob his head up and down. Cas hollowed out his cheeks with the suction, ran his tongue against every stretch of skin he could reach, and on every upsweep of his mouth he swirled that clever tongue around the head, dipping into the slit and forcefully sucking Dean’s brains out through his dick.  

It was so good, he had Dean babbling. “You’re so perfect. God, Cas. Take it so good. Want to fuck your mouth.”

Cas pulled off and looked at him, breathing deeply before saying, “Do it, Dean. Use my mouth.” Then he slid straight down Dean’s cock, relaxing his jaw and waiting there, still and boneless for Dean to fuck.  

Hands gripping Cas’s hair once again, Dean guided his mouth over his cock. He tilted Cas’s head a little, so that he could look into those pools of blue and watch for any signs of discomfort. He needn’t worry though, Cas stared up at him with a blissed out expression, dirty moans slipping from the back of his throat and vibrating through Dean every time Dean hit the back of his mouth. His hands moved from where they were braced against Dean’s stomach and thighs, dropping down into his lap. Dean watched as Cas fumbled with his belt, ripping open his slacks and fisting his own dick. It was cruel the way Cas enjoyed this so much because it meant that Dean wasn’t going to last very long. The sight of Cas getting off at the wet glide of Dean’s cock in his mouth, the sharp pull of Dean’s fingers in his hair, and the tickle of hair and musk that filled his nose when Dean pulled him all the way to the base, had Dean closer to the edge than he should have been.

“Come on, baby,” Dean said, wanting Cas to lose it before he did.

He slipped his finger into Cas’s mouth, stretching it achingly wide. That was it for Cas. He came over his fist, keening wide and obscene around Dean. Dean stilled; he tried to let up on his movements so Cas could have time to recover, but Cas scrambled to swallow him down, even more desperate to get Dean off now. The tight fluttering of his swallows wrecked through Dean’s body, and he was cursing, blinking rapidly down at Cas as he came down his throat.

Cas suckled softly, mouth still loose and warm around Dean’s spent cock. Dean winced once it was too much to handle for his oversensitive skin. He nudged Cas off with a wet pop! Gripping his arms, Dean pulled Cas up and into his lap. He tightened his grasp at the feeling of Cas’s spit-and-come-slick lips pressing insistently against his. The kiss was hard and chaste for about a second until Cas opened for him and Dean plundered his mouth, licking the taste of his spunk from Cas and sucking at his tongue.

They traded several lazy kisses for awhile afterwards before Cas slid off Dean’s lap in order to curl up next to him. Head lolling against the cushions, Cas looked up at him with a tiny self-satisfied smile. He was radiating pleased vibes, looking completely well fucked. On the side of his neck, Dean noticed a bruise in the perfect shape of his thumb, a sure result of Dean gripping too hard. All at once, the tingling, sated pleasure left him.

Dean straightened, tucked himself back into his briefs without bothering to zip his jeans, and looked at Cas, a serious expression taking over his features. He sighed heavily. “This is not normal, Cas. We can’t keep doing this.”

Cas’s doped-out look instantly sobered. Lifting his head, he shifted so that not only was he fully turned to face Dean, but there was now a sliver of space between them. His nails restlessly plucked at some loose couch fibers. Becoming more closed off by the second, his brows a tight line over his eyes, Cas said, “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“You—you don’t see anything wrong with you choking on my cock? With me taking advantage of you like that?” Dean exclaimed, standing up in one fluid movement and throwing his arms in the air, gesturing at the couch as if to encompass not only tonight’s events but everything that has happened there in the past few months.

“I was perfectly willing, Dean.” Cas started, a fond smile briefly lighting up his features. He stood up and stepped closer, Cas’s body barely more than an half a step from becoming a long, warm line against him. His face was less firm now, but he still peered solemnly into Dean’s eyes. “And to imply that you had forced your desires on me, when I was the one who led you into fulfilling my needs, is illogical and a bit insulting.”

Dean squinted at him, and said, “Are you saying that you are, what, offended that I’m not upset with you for wanting me to take care of you?”

Cas’s eyes widened, his lips curling. He leaned forward, barely resting his hands on Dean’s hips. “Dean, don’t you see why the idea that you took advantage is preposterous?” He said. “You are far too kind.”

“Agh, Cas.” Dean huffed, frustrated. It was so tempting to take in those lips with his own and just never let Cas step away. Dean swayed forwards a little at the thought before forcing himself back a little. He clenched his jaw; his hands were balled tightly by his sides. Dean’s voice a little more than a rumbling growl, he asked, “What is it that you want from me, buddy?”

Eyes skittering to the side, Cas made to shrug and deflect but stopped. He bit his lip and glanced at Dean from underneath the dark sweep of his lashes. “I just want you, Dean. Anything that you are willing to give me,” He let out in a creaking sort of whisper.

Rapidly, Dean aligned their bodies. His hands rushed up and tangled themselves in all that familiar hair, briefly relishing in not only the feel and weight of it but also the way Cas’s eyes immediately begin to dilate at the tight feeling. Mouth brushing up against Cas’s, Dean ground out, “You are so goddamn infuriating.” He closed the gap between their lips, biting and licking into Cas’s mouth in a furious kiss. Cas opened up beautifully for him, and whined softly when Dean broke away to press a trail of hot kisses along his jaw. The sound got him stirring low in his gut, sick with want. Already he was ready to take Cas apart despite it not being even an hour since he fucked Cas's mouth. Breath warming Cas’s neck, Dean didn’t bother separating to look into Cas’s eyes when he promised, “I’m going to fuck you into next week.”

Cas’s hands were clutching Dean’s back so hard, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he had half moon marks under his henley, but Cas must still have had more than a few brain cells to rub together because he said, dry as a bone. “That would be perfectly acceptable.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, hiding a wet snort of laughter in the inviting curve of Cas’s neck. They traded a few more sloppy kisses, bodies and arms wound tightly around each other. Dean started to lead Cas to his bedroom, pushing his hips into the sharp line of Cas’s hipbones and stumbling, grinding their way inside. They disentangled long enough to tug off their clothes when Cas basically jumped into Dean’s arms, wrapping his legs tightly around his waist and rubbing himself into Dean’s belly.

Dean let the momentum of Cas’s jump slam them backwards so that his shoulders were braced against the wall by his door. He leant down and sucked a dark mark below Cas’s ear. “God I can’t believe I’ve had you on your knees for me more than I can count and it still took this long to get you into my bed.”

“If you don’t hurry up, you still might not,” Cas said, pulling Dean’s head up. Cas made eye contact as he took Dean’s lower lip into his mouth, running his the edge of his teeth against it and then biting down.

Dean staggered forward, dropping Cas onto his bed. Cas pushed himself up towards Dean’s pillows, spreading himself on Dean’s sheets. Looking down at him, pretty as a picture, smooth, tan skin stretched out like a feast before Dean, he asked, “What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me, Dean.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, rushing to get lube from his nightstand and toss it next to Cas. He quickly crawled over Cas’s body. Letting out groans and, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as Cas spread his legs to allow Dean between them.

Cas reached over for the bottle of lube to open himself up, but Dean grabbed his hands and laced their fingers together, dragging Cas’s arms up over his head. He pressed them down into the mattress, his body and arms effectively caging Cas in. Kissing him slow and sweet, he said, “Don’t move. I’m gonna take care of you now since you worked me over so beautifully earlier.”

Sitting up, he slicked his fingers with the lube, making sure to rub his fingers together and warm the slippery substance. Cas tilted his hips up for Dean, and Dean bowed his head, whimpering at the sight of him. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into all that tight heat waiting for him, claiming Cas with his body and reducing him to high moans and breathy sighs. He pressed his index finger to the rim, watching Cas throw his head back at the feeling of it. The line of his throat, arched in submission, was tempting, but the fluttering ring of muscle called to Dean, so he slipped his finger in and began to open Cas up.

Taking his time to feel the soft heat inside Cas, Dean didn’t slip in a second finger until Cas was writhing and gasping on the first.

“Dean, please,” Cas cried out. “I need, I need more—fuck.”

Two fingers were steadily pumping into him now. Catching on Cas’s rim with every thrust, the pretty pink ring around them was turning red with the slow stretch and burn of Dean’s thick knuckles. Giving into Cas’s pleas because there was no resisting Cas like this, Dean’s third finger flirted at the edge of his entrance in a filthy, hot tease. He hovered over Cas’s body once again. One arm braced his weight, hand curling around Cas’s neck to coax him into messy open-mouthed kisses. Now that he knew he could kiss Cas, it seemed that Dean was reluctant to stop anytime soon.

“I got you,” He groaned against Cas’s lips. “Don’t worry, baby. I got you.”

Once Cas was frantically urging Dean on, eyes wild with want, Dean shifted his weight, slipped his fingers out with an obscenely loud noise, and lined himself up. He pushed in, bottoming out with Cas’s arms around his shoulders and his face tucked against Cas’s collarbone. They both let out a sound at the incredible feeling of rightness.

Cas hot and open around Dean, welcoming him, left Dean panting and breathless.

He shifted his weight, pinning Cas down into the mattress and keeping their bodies locked together, so that every thrust was more like a slow, hard rock that dragged their skin against each other in a satisfying burn of friction. His fingers found themselves once more intertwined with Cas’s near their heads, and Dean gave in to the urge to kiss and suck at his lips, jaw, and neck.

Their skin slicked up with sweat, pooling in the dips and cracks between them. They had shifted to barely moving, so Cas was sharing breaths with Dean more than anything else, too wrecked and warm to continue to kiss each other. The quiet was punctured only by gasps and moans, and Cas’s mouth was gapping against Dean’s. His eyes were wet and pleading when Dean finally reached down to pump his cock, twisting at the head. Cas came violently between them, his eyes fluttering closed and choking on a silent cry. The orgasm had his body tightening around Dean like a vice, and Dean followed him over, his own release punching through him into Cas’s heat.

Dean’s limbs were trembling. He unlaced his right hand from Cas’s left and slipped his arms underneath Cas, turning them onto their sides as he gently slipped out. His mind was filled with white noise. The only sounds worth listening to being the soft sounds Cas made as he peppered kisses along Dean’s hairline. Knowing that they needed to clean up but not wanting to move, Dean reached blindly behind himself for the box of tissues somewhere on his nightstand.

He shoved them at Cas, fumbling when he tried the wipe their stomachs and just giving up. Cas shook with silent laughter at Dean’s lazy, fucked out movements like he wasn’t just crying out, writhing on Dean’s cock not ten minutes ago. Nipping his shoulder in retaliation, Dean languidly dragged his hands down the bumps of Cas’s spine and slipped a finger into his crack to tease at his rim, now weeping with lube and Dean’s come.

Cas gasped, quickly tossing the tissues aside. He kissed Dean softly and settled in his arms, letting Dean continue to play with him.

“Next time you tell me what you want right from the start, Cas,” Dean murmured against his cheek, stopping his attentions. “I don’t care if you have to sit me down and force me to listen. If I can do anything to make you happy or if I’m doing something to make you unhappy, I promise you I want to know. Even if it means taking over and hiding you away for awhile.”

Cas pushed Dean onto his back.  He leaned over him to peer down into his eyes for a long movement. “As long as it goes both ways, Dean. You are everything to me, and I would be incandescently happy being yours, if you’ll have me,” he said shyly.

Dean leant up and gave him another of his favorite kisses, slow and sweet. He gathered him into his arms and settled them down into his covers. It was too soon to say anything out loud, but Dean’s heart was fit to burst with love.


End file.
